<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Rainbow Cakes by redcurlzbychoice</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092968">Rainbow Cakes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcurlzbychoice/pseuds/redcurlzbychoice'>redcurlzbychoice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Lead Ballons and Rainbow Cakes [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Multitude of Rainbow Cakes, Corona Virus Quarantine, Cuddling and Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, GO in times of Corona Virus, Good Omens Lockdown, Kisses, M/M, Morning Kisses, Really a lot of Domestic Fluff, There‘s no excuse really, cake baking, lots of kisses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:48:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcurlzbychoice/pseuds/redcurlzbychoice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley eyes filled with a new surge of happiness, just looking at him, and then he sighed in mock exasperation once more. „Aziraphale, how in all God‘s beautiful creation did you manage to get chocolate batter all the way up to your nose?“</p><p>„Oh, indeed, ehm, well, one has to try if the batter‘s allright, hasn’t one?“</p><p>„Yeah, but there’s a difference between ‚take a sample‘ and ‚licking the spoon so greedily the batter‘s ending up all over your face‘, I‘m sure.“ Crowley sighed once more, which spread into a grin, when he was very politely asked to be of help in removing any excess amount of batter, and when they were done Aziraphale had to try the meringue frosting, naturally, and the whole process started all over again.</p><p>…………………………</p><p> </p><p>Well, having thought about that first Lockdown fic a little while longer, I found there‘s way not enough Rainbow Cakes in it. So, this is what my brain made of it from scratch...</p><p>OR:<br/>Yet another cake up for that OTHER anniversary date on May 10th... (Love the mind of Neil Gaiman so much!)<br/>Also, many curtseys to Sir Terry. You and your wit and kindness are missed so much down here!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Lead Ballons and Rainbow Cakes [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rainbow Cakes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(* If you want to listen to the song Crowley’s going to play later, here‘s already the link:<br/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1gfZwejPv8  )</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>
„Crowley, dear. I need to WORK.“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Mmmmhggkkkmmmm,“ murmured Crowley, eyes still closed. „Stay. No need t’ get up, really. We‘re retired. <em>And</em> it’s still quarantine.“ With a lazy yawn, instead of releasing him, Crowley pulled himself in, closer to his Angel, leisurely nuzzling his right shoulder blade, just that point where a white wing would appear, ruffling from pleasure, if he kept nuzzling and kissing for a little while longer. His long arm embraced his Angel’s torso, his fingers taking a stroll through the soft curls on his sternum. Blissful quarantine mornings, these were....</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Crowley. Really! I need to get to work. <em>We</em> need to get to work. You surely <em>do</em> remember, the load of things we need to prepare for tomorrow’s special day?“ Aziraphale ruffled, though with his whole body and wriggled himself out of Crowley’s arms. „So sorry dear,“ he said, placing a soft kiss on Crowley’s forehead (not his lips, mind, he knew well enough by now where <em>that</em> would lead to: definitely not getting anyone out of bed for the next - at least - maybe ... no, there <em>was</em> work to do, and quite a lot of it.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Yeah, sure, but it‘s <em>tomoooorow</em>. So, why’re up so early? Can’t be that much to do today, eh?“ Crowley yawned and stretched his long limbs as if he were a cat deep down and not a serpent, blinking his eyes open. „Hiya, Angel,“ he said with such a happy, soppy smile on his lips, not meant to tempt at all, which turned this whole tableau of naked demon in sheets so much more into a temptation to kiss and caress for Aziraphale. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Oh, you fiend. Stop that!“ he tutted, but with an adoring twitch to his angelic lips.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„What? That?“ Crowley slithered out of the sheets and snuggled himself into Aziraphale’s bare torso, nuzzling his left shoulder blade, just for balance. He felt Aziraphale leaning into it, tilting his head back ever so slightly, and then with a deep regretful sigh the angel straightened up and pulled himself away from the enthralling sensation of his Demon‘s lips.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Crowley, dear, stop. You promised.“ Although Aziraphale now was pouting, Crowley had come know to him well enough to take it for what it was: a promise in return. „Later,“ it said in their own code. „Later, when we’re done with my propositions, I‘ll not only let you, but make you nuzzle any part of this body, until we both ruffle with delight...“</span>
</p><p class="p2">„Hey, Angel, ‘m a demon still, remember? ‘t‘s my <em>job</em> to tempt and detain, ’n‘t it?“ Crowley got up with a smirk (softened with adoring fondness though) and miracled his clothes on with a snap, and then leaned back on the bed to watch the lengthy affair of his Angel getting dressed. Aziraphale had gotten incredibly fast accustomed to this ritual, as if he had been starved for the loving gaze his body was worshipped by this demon who truly treasured its soft features. He soaked up every glint in Crowley’s eyes, every content breath Crowley would take while he performed a choreography of donning his merino vest and underpants („Tartan? Seriously, Angel, <em>TARTAN</em>? That is so ... <em>you</em>.“), stepping into his woolen trousers and blue shirt. „It‘s not as you won’t ever see it again, dearest,“ he laughed when Crowley moaned as he closed the last shirt buttons over his belly, but he couldn’t hide the overflowing rejoice of his heart in his words.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Now, off to the kitchen!,“ Aziraphale said with an invitingly demanding smile, when he was finally fully dressed at last. „There‘s cake to be baked!“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Together they went downstairs into the little kitchen, hidden in the back of the store. Aziraphale had used it mainlyfor the preparation of hot cocoa and tea before, until the quarantine, that is, and all restaurants and cafes had been locked down. Since then he‘d miracled all kinds of flour and other basic ingredients into this little cabinet, and gotten himself amused with baking cakes and loafs of every imaginable kind. Well, except for Demon‘s food cake, really. That speciality had shown up all by himself on the first day of May, after a phone call that had nearly gone fallen, saving the cake and offering its dark, luscious inside freely for Aziraphale to more than just nibble on. As it was, the angel had been waiting to try that delicacy for ages and now that he allowed himself to give in to the temptation he couldn’t get enough of it. And said demon was more than overjoyed to indulge his Angel in any conceivable way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„So, the plan‘s still to ...“ asked Crowley as he busied himself to prepare their first cups of tea (after living in a county for so many hundreds of years, even ethereal and occult beings can’t fully thwart certain foibles entering their habits). </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„... give out birthday cakes to, well, anyone. Yes. I should have thought about that on the first date, sharing all the excess cake there was, but ...“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„... but then a certain demon dropped out of your phone and took your mind off cake for a while, hmm, got’ya. Here you are, Angel,“ and Crowley placed a steaming cup in Aziraphale’s hands and an affectionate kiss on his Angel’s cheek. „Love you, Angel,“ he said softly, with the smile that hadn’t left his eyes since they‘d truly come out on their own bookshop side of life last week. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Thank you, my dear,“ Aziraphale smiled back, and though he didn’t say it out loud, Crowley did clearly hear the „for all that you are, for all that we have“ in his voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While they sipped their tea Crowley cooked a full English breakfast for his Angel (though he hadn’t had any experience before, too, he‘d gotten expert into cooking for his Angel in no time - it was like a talent hidden under a layer of ice that melted away in the warm sun of their reciprocal love, and no fear of sharp objects and hellfire were surely of no hindrance). Crowley watched him eat eggs and bacon, porridge with freshly cut apples and several slices of toast with ginger&amp;mandarin marmelade, golden like Crowley’s eyes, and they chatted about everything and nothing, about their past and their future, resplendent shivers of golden bubbles running down Crowley’s spine whenever Aziraphale would produce a particularly sultry sound of pleasure.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a snap of clean-up they returned to the kitchinette and made room for their ambitious scheme. It was agreed upon that Aziraphale would stir the batter and do the baking, while Crowley would beat the meringue icing. They had done a cake before and as the batter would rise by means of eggs and bicarbonate alone, the meringue did turn out so much fluffier if it was reminded upon how to better behave by a deliberate demonic glare. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Angel, would you mind if I put on some music?“ Crowley asked with a mischievous smile on his lips, and was answered by a sigh, Aziraphale obviously picking up on his intention. „Oh, dear, if you must insist. I‘ve listened to „Killer Queen“ so often in your car, I could sing it myself for you by heart now. I‘m rather not sure if the wording seems fully appropriate for this occasion, though.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Aziraphale, I‘ll be definitely coming back to <em>that</em> offer!“ Crowley amazedly retorted. „But for now, I actually had something more of your style in mind.“ He pulled out his phone, tapped the display, and sound filled the room, in perfect quality (it bloody well knew what was expected of it): a few clasps, then a female voice with a strong American accent, crying joyously ‚Come in! Look who’s here! Well, well, well, I haven’t seen you in many a year!‘ To start out singing ‚If I knew you were coming I‘d‘ve baked a cake, baked a cake, baked a cake ...‘ in a rhythm that made Aziraphale bop with delight. „Crowley, Ms Barton! Where did you find this gem?“ (*)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Ooooh, ANGEL, it‘s called the <em>Internet</em>! Get a grip on modern times, for fuck‘s sake, my lovely antiquarian Angel!“ Crowley sighed out in mock exasperation and didn‘t mind at all the jaunty prod with which said angel playfully bumped his hips into his buttocks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Don’t you call me old-fashioned!“ Aziraphale served back, pulling his Demon in for a kiss, „or I‘ll make you my Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy tonight!“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„You besottingly archaic example of a vintage angel disguised as a quaint bookseller!“ Crowley grinned, and after they were done kissing, sometime later, they bopped back to stirring and glaring batter and frosting, respectively, still swaying to the infectious rhythm, and not minding at all if various parts of their bodies would touch and rub on each other in the small room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„How did it come to be that there are two dates for the anniversary, anyway, I just wondered?“ Aziraphale asked in between taking the light fluffy sponge cakes out of the oven and putting the dark chocolate batter in. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Ngk, liberal use of the liberties of the internet, Angel. Might call it another mix up at birth. Took’m by their word. Wikipedia is a great source of information, but if you don’t doublecheck ... Hadn’t expexted though that it’d trick the original author, too.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Well, the <em>other</em> author remembered well enough, obviously!“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„You know him? I thought he was agnostic?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Crowley, Sir Terry Pratchett was one of the most kind and humane beings that ever walkedthis earth, of course he ended up in heaven.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„With pricks like Gabriel and Sandalphon? He‘d have chosen hell rather. Or oblivion. Yeah, that‘d suit him. Some kind of happy Nirvana.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Dearest, you forget that the Almighty does have a <em>very</em> queer sense of humour, even if we don’t understand any of itmost of the time. Nirvana <em>is</em> a place in heaven, where the Archangels have no access to, and only people with kindness and a sense of humour can get into. Heaven would be completely unbearable without! And that would be rather unfair to the multitude of essentially nice people down here, wouldn’t it?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„So Pratchett‘s in heaven, still making up stories?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Last time I checked, yes, indeed. The lesser angels love his fables, and the way his narratives annoy the big guys. Makes them even slide off the Rim sometimes. I even heard he’s asking <em>questions. </em>But in such a genuine way, there’s rumor he makes even God laugh. He‘s really having a ball.“ The angel giggled, mostly to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley eyes filled with a new surge of happiness, just looking at him, and then he sighed in mock exasperation once more. „Aziraphale, <em>how</em> in all God‘s beautiful creation did you manage to get chocolate batter all the way up to your nose?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Oh, indeed, ehm, well, one <em>has</em> to try if the batter‘s allright, hasn’t one?“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Yeah, but there’s a difference between ‚take a sample‘ and ‚licking the spoon so greedily the batter‘s ending up all over your face‘, I‘m sure.“ Crowley sighed once more, which spread into a grin, when he was very politely asked to be of help in removing any excess amount of batter, and when they were done Aziraphale had to try the meringue frosting, naturally, and the whole process started all over again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„At least now I know why you kicked me out of bed so early this morning,“ Crowley moaned in between, but he did seem to rather prefer these hold-ups to another hour of sleep, so there was no real grouse in it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rather the opposite.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"><br/>
</span>Sometime in the afternoon they succeeded in baking all the batter and colouring the icing in the most prominent shades of the rainbow. Crowley cut the cakes in layers and they put one on top of each other, dark and light alternatingly, and in between they spread the icing, creating each a Rainbow of a Cake, and the tops they sprinkled lavishly with glittering sugar sparkles, also resembling a rainbow. And they made a couple of surprise-inside-cakes, filled with small candies in - surprise! - rainbow colours.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they were finally done, they stepped back as far as possible in the tiny kitchen (it had made room actually quite a bit, expanding to take up all these cakes, making sure that no spatters of batter or icing might stain any precious book, but still it stayed tiny enough for its favourite couple to frequently touch each other - as if that really had needed a tiny kitchen, but, well, the kitchen was so happy to play its part), their arms entwined around their backs (the tiny kitchen beamed with pride) and marvelled their work.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Dear, now that was indeed a task to last the day!“ Aziraphale sighed exhausted but happily. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Pity they‘re not gonna last even ’till tomorrow evening, Angel.“ Crowley sighed even more exhausted, but at least similarly happily. His Angel had shown unexpected stamina before, and cake baking and decorating only fitted the picture splendidly. „Cake <em>is</em> the epitome of ephemeral beauty, after all.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„So, we got the basic Rainbow Cake, the surprise ones for families with children, the ones for diabetics, vegetarians, vegans, any kind of food allergy and sensitivity ones and ...“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„... and the special ones that‘ll miraculously turn themselves into anything the needs or quirks of the People they’re gifted to demand,“ Crowley said with a content smile. „Yeah, I think we got ’em all covered. So, what’re we gonna do now? They‘re still way too few t’ serve all the people you want t’ gift ’em with.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">„Oh, don’t worry, dear, I‘ve done it before. Well, been of assistance. I was rather limited to a <em>very</em> small variety of food back then, though. Quite boring, actually,“ the angel recounted. „I tried to at least bring about a little diversity in miracling up different kinds of bread, but of course I was heavily reprimanded. ‚Frivolous miracles‘ and ‚humans won‘t eat what they don’t know‘, and all of that gibberish. I mean, what <em>is</em> the point in creating so many different kinds of edible fish if one is not allowed to make use of it?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley pulled his Angel in even closer and placed a fond kiss on his fair curls, smelling of sweat and remains of sugary icing and <em>Aziraphale</em>. „I should have known you were around back there, Angel,“ he laughed. „If there‘s food involved, you tend to be not too far off, really.“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">Then he helped Aziraphale to multiply the cakes by thousands, and later at night to distribute them to their donees, by miracle also. It still was quarantine, after all, and they were not supposed to roam the streets unless for really essential reasons. </p><p>They sent them to all kinds of people, families with children who hadn’t seen their friends and grandparents for weeks, parents and people who worried about their jobs and homes, to people worrying if they might get sick themselves, or their family, to mothers who were nearly out of their wits with the multiple burden of job and household, caring for kids and family and now home-schooling their kids as well (and of course the fathers too, but they both knew that in most families the household chores were mainly the women‘s ‚business‘, still, and also, it happened to be Mother‘s Day). These cakes they sprinkled with an extra share of love and hope, and endurance.</p><p>And they sent cakes to hospitals and nursing homes, to the sick and their families, to anyone who was caring for others at home, and at work, too, risking their lives for strangers. These cakes they sprinkled not only with love, but with extra hope, endurance and the ability to rise above all the pain they witnessed with a heart that did not give in to despair. (Crowley suggested to add coffee, too, but Aziraphale declined, pointing out that would affect the flavour too much, so they settled on another miracle for stamina to keep them going with little sleep during extra hours.)</p><p> </p><p>When all cakes were distributed, finally, in the early morning hours of May 10th, both miracled themselves clean from all the floury sweet dust they were covered with and went to bed, tired but deeply chuffed with what they had accomplished. Some of the early shift staff already had found their cakes, and the surprise and elation they radiated grew tangible for Crowley and Aziraphale by the minute.</p><p>Aziraphale kept to his promises, and when Crowley finally closed his eyes, cuddled into his Angel (who tenderly drew soft patterns on his back with affectionate hands), Crowley’s brain was on constant replay of his Angel singing „Killer Queen“ in his soft baritone exclusively for his Demon. </p><p>Crowley fell, asleep this time, and he was happier than anytime before in his long existence, because here he was as near to the Lap of the Gods as he could strive for, in the arms of the Love of his Life, and he finally was certain: this Angel was guaranteed to blow his mind.<br/>
Anytime.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>.</p><p> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>And thanks to all the Medical Staff and everybody else who works to keep people alive!</p><p>Again, I can not mention it often enough:</p><p>In quarantine, stay at home. Don’t play with fire. Choose your company wisely. Someday it all will be fayed and done. </p><p>A virus has neither heart nor brain. It‘s up to us humans now to show we indeed do have both.</p><p>Please stay home safely and especially: May you all stay healthy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>